"..the wind is in your hair, you can smell the salt in the air, you are riding the ocean waves. Travelling this route is something you've always done. You sell your cargo at one port and then buy some more with the profit you make. You are a merchant, plying your trade. It's an honourable life. Suddenly, out of no-where, you find yourself sailing into a fog bank. The dark whisps of mist crawl over you and you can hear nothing but the waves slapping against your hull echoing dulling back to you. The fog makes dark grey forms around you, changing smoothly like oil in water. One of the dark shapes catches your eye: something isn't right. As you squint to see better, the mystery solves itself, a blackend headmast rears out of the fog, she turns, revealing a row of cannons. The fog parts slightly and you can see the mast, and the ships flag, a grinning skull meets your eyes as the blood drains from your face: The Jolly Roger. Pirates! The techo-pirates are here, router in one hand, P2P network in another... as you stare into the pale grinning faces you realise that your whole livelihood is going to be destroyed. The horror... the horror..."